


Nights in Arcadia

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s06e15 Arcadia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of diana fowley, mulder just wants to take care of scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 09:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20112751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Will Scully let Mulder take care of her? Just for one night?





	Nights in Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt: Scully isn’t feeling well, gets sick/thinks she’s coming down with a cold, or has period cramps... somewhere along those lines. They are forced together as a couple, living together for the assignment. She is hesitant to accept his care due to the awkwardness during this time period because of Diana but eventually allows him to care for her.

“Honey, you’re home.” Mulder stands there with his hands on his hips, wearing a too small, salmon-colored apron that Scully has no idea where it came from, grinning from ear to ear.

“I am,” she answers slowly, her eyes on him as she takes off her coat and sets down her briefcase. Mulder is still grinning, reminding her of a Stepford wife. There have been times in their partnership when she would have found his silly behavior cute. These days, she just finds him irritating. The raging war in her stomach is not helping. There’s another bout of pain in her abdomen and she sighs to hide her pain from him.

“Cooked you dinner. I thought I should do something nice for my wifey.” That grin. Again.

He isn’t taking any of this seriously; the case, this life, her. Not for one moment. She can’t even fake a smile with her stomach in knots.

“I’m not hungry.” If she sounds like a petulant child, so be it.

His grin fades. “But…,” he trails off, tugging at his apron until it comes off. He expected her to play along, to laugh at his jokes like before, to indulge him. This time she won’t.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she says, the decision long made. That bathtub has been calling her name for hours. Mulder’s eyes follow her as she walks up the stairs but he doesn’t say a word.

Upstairs, in her – Laura’s bedroom - Scully takes a deep breath. Something in her stomach pulls and she moans. She shouldn’t have had that salad at lunch. If she were alone, meaning without Mulder, she’d get in her pajamas, get a hot water bottle and watch a movie until she falls asleep. But she isn’t alone. Mulder is here. She hears him downstairs, doing whatever he’s doing there in the kitchen. With a sigh, she walks into the bathroom and lets water into the tub, sitting there, just breathing in and out, willing the pain in her abdomen to subside.

Her alone time doesn’t last long, however. She should have known Mulder wouldn’t give up as easily.

“Knock, knock,” Mulder says from outside. “Are you decent?”

She wants to lie and say no but she doesn’t have the heart. “Come in.”

“I thought maybe you’d like to eat while you’re taking your bath.” For once his face is devoid of amusement. He’s trying. His smile is almost bashful. Scully’s stomach grumbles but she’s not sure whether it’s in agreement or in horror.

“What is it?” she asks, trying to get a look at the plate.

“Pasta carbonara. With lots of bacon and cheese.” Mulder lowers the plate so she can see it. The pasta swims in a rich smelling sauce and Scully’s stomach has made a decision.

It’s a definite no.

She has just enough time to turn around, fall to her knees, lift the toilet lid and let go.

“Oh shit, Scully.” Mulder’s voice is close and she squeezes her eyes shut. Why does he have to be here? She hears the plate clatter, wonders where he’s put the insulting pasta. Since when does Mulder cook anyway? Diana pops into her head and she groans.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right.” The faucet squeaks as Mulder turns it off. She wants to cry; the water is going to get cold. As cold as she’s feeling. Until Mulder puts his hand on her back. It’s so warm, so big. Comforting.

“Mulder…,” she mumbles but doesn’t find the strength to move away from his touch.

“Do you feel better now? Do you need anything?” She needs to be alone. That’s what she wants. But Mulder is drawing circles on her back, his fingertips gently pressing into her skin. She could fall asleep like this.

“Hmmm,” she answers him. Her stomach is still upset, but less so than before. As long as she doesn’t think about the pasta, or any other food, she’ll be fine. “Can you- the pasta…” Even the word makes her sick. “Can you take it away… please?” Mulder doesn’t reply, but the hand on her back disappears and then he’s gone, too. She uses the moment to heave herself up. Her legs are useless and her knees weak. She stares at her reflection in the mirror. What a sight. If Mulder thought she looked hideous with her face cream, what is he going to think now? And what does it even matter? She sighs.

Scully puts toothpaste on her toothbrush and brushes her teeth carefully. The minty taste gives her a feeling of normalcy. Mulder returns and she catches him in the mirror. Their eyes meet.

“Pasta is gone. Do you want me to make you soup? I can do a mean butter toast if you want.” His smile is so genuine that any anger she might have felt earlier just disappears into thin air. She shakes her head and gives him the smallest of smiles. She’s just been sick in front of him. Not for the first time in the six years they’ve known each other. Now she’s got frothy toothpaste on her lips, some of it dripping onto the porcelain.

“I’m fine,” she says after she spits out the toothpaste. “Thank you. I think I’ll just go to bed.” She sees Mulder nod before he’s back at her side. There’s no reason for him to put his hand on her back and lead her into the bedroom. She lets him do it anyway. Standing there, watching Mulder get the bed ready, even though she is capable of doing it herself, she can’t help but wonder. She’s shared everything with Mulder, except a bed. Blood shoots into her cheeks, just imaging them here together in this bed, tangled up with each other in between the sheets. That’s a line of thinking she shouldn’t pursue; especially after everything with Diana. 

“I think you might be running a fever, Scully.” Leave it to Mulder to catch her daydreaming about him.

“I’m fine,” she repeats quickly, running a hand over her face while cursing her fair complexion.

“Of course you are. Do you refuse everyone’s help or just mine?” Mulder’s sudden outburst catches her by surprise. He’s angrily fluffing a pillow, throwing it on the bed. Somehow she thinks he’d like to do the same with her. “Why won’t you let me take care of you, Scully? Just once?” He’s not looking at her, fighting with the blanket and two pillows. She won’t help him.

Why, she thinks. Why does he even need to ask? The answer is as simple as it is complicated. Diana. The aftertaste of his misplaced trust still lingers. He never apologized. She didn’t expect him to and yet, she’d hoped. Just a “you were right, Scully”. But nothing. He sulked and sulked and they didn’t talk about it.

“I had a bad salad, Mulder,” Scully says in an even voice, not wanting to get into it now. He turns to her, his eyes small and unreadable. “I’m not sick.”

He looks at her for a long while and she can’t tell what he’s thinking. “If you say so. Feel better, Scully.”

“Would you rather be here with someone else?” The words fall out of her mouth right as he is about to leave the bedroom.

He stops. “What?”

“You’re acting like all of this is a joke. We’ve got the x-files back and you’re treating his case and me like it’s not important.” Surprise flashes over his face. He had no idea, it occurs to her. No idea how he’s been treating her.

“Not important? Scully, I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else. I don’t want to do this with anyone but you.”

"Then why are you acting like… like this?”

He throws his hands into the air. “Like what?”

“Ever since we’ve got here, you’ve treated me like a liability. Like your little wifey.” She shudders. “Is that how you view relationships? A marriage?”

“Scully.” Everything about him softens all at once as he walks towards her. A small smile curls at his lips. “I am trying to fit in here.”

“I thought you were doing the opposite?”

He nods. “But as a husband, I’m just trying… I don’t know how this works, Scully. You’ve been so distant lately. Cracking jokes seemed my safest bet.”

“You’re blaming me?” She takes a step back. “That’s rich, Mulder.”

“I’m not blaming you,” he says softly, searching her eyes. “We haven’t had time to talk about everything – Diana,” he sighs, shakes his head as if he could get rid of her that way. “I know we need to talk about it.”

“We do,” Scully agrees.

“But not tonight. Not in this- house. All of this pretend, right?” She doesn’t know where he is going with this so she nods slowly. “Can’t you just pretend – just for tonight – that everything between us is fine and please let me take care of you? We’ll forget about it in the morning and never talk about it again.”

Scully stares at him, speechless. She doesn’t want to pretend. It feels like they’ve done nothing but pretend. But maybe Mulder is right. His eyes are pleading with her and she can’t deny him that. If she’s honest, it’s not for him. Not just for him, anyway. One night where they pretend Diana didn’t happen. As she looks at him, she wonders, where does this start? To what point in their relationship are they returning? Pre-almost kiss?

Mulder doesn’t give her time to think about it. “Now, get into bed and I’ll make you some tea. Is that- would that be all right?”

“Do we have chamomile?” she asks as she gets into bed. Mulder smiles as he secures the blanket around her and touches her cheek in passing.

“We do,” he answers. The bed dips as he sits next to her for a moment. “Thank you, Scully. For tonight.” Without even glancing at her, he leaves her alone. She slips further into bed and listens to Mulder downstairs. It’s comforting. By the time he brings up the tea, she is almost asleep. She smiles at him, happy to see him again and reminds herself that all of this is just pretend. So she whispers “please stay” and Mulder, with a bright smile, stays by her side. 

She lets him tell her about his day. Even lets him hold her hand for a while, his thumb rubbing against her skin in circles. She pretends not to notice when he lies down on the other side of the bed. Pretends she doesn’t see the way he looks at her, scoots closer, holds her. After all, she reminds herself, they will never speak of this night again.


End file.
